


Mona Lisa's Smile

by tinylilremus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur is an amazing boyfriend, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Merlin is an amazing geek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinylilremus/pseuds/tinylilremus
Summary: Merlin is the only reason he hasn’t snapped yet. Arthur’s tired and exhausted and just so so sick of art but seeing how Merlin’s face lights up when he sees one of his favourite pieces or how the tips of his adorable ears flush read as he excitedly babbles on about the brushwork and use of colour (even though he knows Arthur can’t tell if it’s good or bad one way or another) fills him with so much affection that he knows he’d happily spend the hundred or so days that he now knows it would take to see each and every piece. Arthur would do anything to keep that childlike mirth alive in his features.
    The small velvet box in his pocket suddenly feels a lot more heavy and insistent.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raphale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphale/gifts).



If Arthur never sees another painting again in his life it will be too soon.

What no one told him when he announced that part of his romantic Paris trip with his studying-to-be-an-art-historian boyfriend would be taking him to The Louvre (a dream Arthur knows Merlin has had since almost before he could talk), is that the Louvre is big. Fucking big. The biggest fucking big Arthur can conceive of at this point since he’s been inside it so long that he’s almost forgotten what the sky looks like. At every corner, mile-long hallways stretch out before them, all covered in paintings that Arthur only vaguely recognises and Merlin oohs and aahs at, completely enthralled.

And it. Just. Never. Fucking. Ends.

Merlin is the only reason he hasn’t snapped yet. Arthur’s tired and exhausted and just so so sick of art but seeing how Merlin’s face lights up when he sees one of his favourite pieces or how the tips of his adorable ears flush red as he excitedly babbles on about the brushwork and use of colour (even though he knows Arthur can’t tell if it’s good or bad one way or another) fills him with so much affection that he knows he’d happily spend the hundred or so days that he now knows it would take to see each and every piece. Arthur would do anything to keep that childlike mirth alive in his features.

The small velvet box in his pocket suddenly feels a lot more heavy and insistent.

Merlin has almost been in his own world the entire time they’ve been at the museum, so swept up in the history and realness of the pieces, that Arthur is surprised when Merlin stops halfway down a corridor and turns to look at him. It’s practically the first time his eyes have left the walls of the museum.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he smiles, moving closer to Arthur.

“Eh, you might have mentioned it once or twice,” grins Arthur, pressing a small kiss to Merlin’s lips.

“I’m serious though,” says Merlin. “This whole trip so far – that amazing dinner last night and now the Louvre? I just… I know you don’t like museums or art as much as I do and you’ve been the absolute perfect boyfriend. So patient. I love that you still love me after listening to me going on and on about that Delacroix painting.”

“I actually quite like that one,” smiles Arthur. “And I love that you still love me even though that the main reason I like it is because it’s on the cover of a Coldplay album.”

“I don’t even care why you like it, I’m just happy you like any art at all,” chuckles Merlin, slipping his hand into Arthur’s. “Want to go for that bicycle tour now, love? I can see you’re dying for fresh air.”

The velvet box seems to gain another few pounds.

“You haven’t seen the Mona Lisa yet,” says Arthur with a frown. “I thought she was the whole reason you’ve been so determined to come here your whole life.”

“She is but… I mean there are so many people here. I’m hardly going to see her up close, am I? It’s not going to be that much different from mum’s print of it. And you’re probably so bored of running around after me. Let’s go do something else.”

God, how Arthur loves Merlin. Sweet, self-sacrificing Merlin. Sweet, self-sacrificing idiot Merlin who is inadvertently ruining his very carefully thought-out plan.

“Merlin, we’re here already and god knows when you’re going to get another chance to see her in real life,” says Arthur, tugging Merlin in the direction the signs are pointing. “Let’s see for ourselves if her smile is as amazing as everyone says it is.”

Merlin resists for a moment before falling into step with Arthur. The velvet box scrapes against Arthur’s leg with every stride and the speed his heart is racing has little to do with how fast they’re walking to get to the painting and everything to do with the question Arthur wants to ask when he gets there.

As Merlin predicted, there’s a thick knot of people blocking them off from getting close enough to see any detail, but there, just visible above the sea of heads, is the actual, real-life Mona Lisa. A surprising shiver runs up Arthur’s spine at the thought of how many famous historical figures have seen it and handled it. Merlin is gaping at it open-mouthed.

“That’s her,” he says, awe-struck. “God, Arthur, that’s her right there. That’s the actual painting that Da Vinci painted with his actual hands. You know there’s a theory that it’s a self-portrait and that it was Da Vinci’s way of trying to come to terms with his sexual identity?”

Arthur listens to Merlin as he excitedly rambles on and on about his favourite painting and all the theories surrounding it and he falls in love more with every word out of Merlin’s mouth. His hand is now wrapped around the small box in his pocket and though he’s more nervous than he can ever remember being in his life, he’s also never been more certain about anything.

“Sorry I’m prattling on again,” smiles Merlin apologetically and Arthur smiles back.

“Yes you are. Remind me again why I said yes when you asked me to go out with you?” smirks Arthur which earns him a light wallop with Merlin’s free fist. Arthur chuckles as lets go of Merlin’s hand to stand face-to-face with him.

“If I recall correctly it was _you_ who snogged _me_ then _begged_ me to go out with you when I voiced my doubts because you weren’t out yet and I didn’t want to be anyone’s Big Gay Secret.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” says Arthur, quirking an eyebrow. “And did I not, only two days after, tell everyone how I felt about you?”

“You did,” says Merlin with that impossibly fond smile that makes Arthur wonder what he’s ever done to deserve having it aimed at him for the past six years.

“Do you remember where it happened?” asks Arthur.

“In my living room in front of mum’s Mona Lisa print,” Merlin replies, glancing over at the crowded painting again as he does. “Mum’s always reckoned that she’s good luck.”

“I certainly hope so,” smiles Arthur, hand now gripping the box so tightly, there’s a real danger he might actually break it. “You know, since that day all those years ago you have crashed my car, called my father a ‘homophobic twatwaffle’ to his face, dragged me to a university on the opposite side of the country to the one I had been planning to go to, made me make friends with your crazy lot - especially Gwaine, and you’ve used your insane plot-predicting powers to spoil the ending of at least twenty different films for me.”

Merlin’s smile is a mix of apologetic and puzzled and it takes all of Arthur’s determination to focus on his words and not how much he wants to kiss the stupid man senseless right now.

“However, you’ve also taught me that material things actually mean nothing compared to you and how to stand up to my father. You’ve helped me realise what my dreams are and what I actually want to do with my life, have given me a group of friends who I know genuinely care about me – especially Gwaine. And if it was inevitable that I was going to have the fact that Bruce Willis is a ghost the whole way through that film spoiled for me, I’m glad it was from your big mouth in our flat with us curled up on the couch together.”

He pulls the velvet box out of his pocket with a shaky hand and tries not to falter at how wide Merlin’s eyes have suddenly become.

“I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while now and it’s just never been the right time,” says Arthur. “But I honestly couldn’t think of a better place to ask it than in front of the real version of the painting where I begged you to give me a chance the first time. I’m not going to go down on one knee because it’s really busy and I know you’re not a fan of making a scene, but Merlin Emrys, can I beg you to be my husband?”

And then the box won’t open because _of-fucking-course_ the box won’t open, but it doesn’t matter because Merlin is throwing his arms around Arthur’s neck and laugh-crying into his neck.

“God, yes, you clotpole,” he chuckles wetly before pulling away slightly to kiss Arthur. It’s giddy and clumsy and when they break apart for air, Arthur’s face is almost as damp with Merlin’s tears as Merlin’s is. “Fuck, Arthur, you should know by now that you don’t have to beg.”

Arthur finally gets the box open and slips the simple silver band onto Merlin’s finger, marvelling at how _right_ it looks.

“Er, yours is back the hotel,” says Merlin with a sheepish grin. “I was going to ask on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“God, you’re a walking cliché and I adore you,” Arthur laughs, pressing an overwhelmingly thankful kiss to Merlin’s forehead. He’s just about to ask Merlin if he wants to get a closer look when an angry French person growls at them.

 _“Pourriez-vous vous embrassez ailleurs? Je n'arrive pas à voir.”_ When they don’t respond he stomps off, muttering in annoyance, _“Putains de touristes.”_ Arthur and Merlin stare after him in amusement for a while before Arthur turns to beam back at Merlin.

“So, do you want to spend some more time with her or are you ready to try that bicycle tour?” he asks.

“Well I was just thinking,” says Merlin, sliding a hand suggestively up Arthur’s chest, “I can’t really remember what our hotel room is like.”

“Oh is that so?” smirks Arthur.

“Not at all,” Merlin purrs as he toys with the collar of Arthur’s t-shirt. “Now I don’t know about you, but I think that’s shame, don’t you?”

“A damn shame,” says Arthur. “One that we need to sort out right away.”

And after one last peck in front of the painting that’s witnessed so many of the important moments of his life, Merlin’s dragging Arthur towards the nearest exit. Just as they’re about to move out of view of it,  Arthur turns his head to take one last glance at the most famous painting in the world and he can’t help but secretly feel that he now knows what she’s smiling about.


End file.
